


through this doorway

by averzierlia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, wizard!Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averzierlia/pseuds/averzierlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt by <a href="http://burningchaos.livejournal.com/">burningchaos</a> - Harry Potter/Sherlock BBC - John is a wizard living as a muggle, Sherlock knows but wants John to tell him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	through this doorway

0  
“You know you can tell me anything, John,” Sherlock says after they’ve been living together for a week.

John looks up from his paper, studying Sherlock. He nods.

“I know I can. If only because you’ll have probably already deduced it,” John says dryly.

“Well, yes, that, but I mean it. _You can tell me anything_.”

1  
One day John comes home to find his potion ingredients lined up nice and neat in the kitchen cabinet, his cauldron under the sink, stirring rods wrapped neatly inside.

“Sherlock, what are…”and here John trails off, because he has no idea how to finish that sentence. What are my potions supplies doing in the kitchen? Why aren’t you demanding to know what the hell they are? More importantly, his wizarding pictures had been wrapped up and safe in his cauldron, and _where the hell were they_?

“You didn’t finish your sentence,” Sherlock notes from his position in the kitchen doorway.

“No,” John says evenly, turning away, “I didn’t.

2  
It doesn’t occur to John until later to add ‘How the hell did you get into my room?’ to the growing list of questions he has about The Incident. He mentally puts that question at the top of the list, considering he’d had a _colloportus_ charm on his door.

3  
He starts to think that Sherlock knows a bit more about things than he lets on…ok, scratch that, he _knows_ Sherlock knows more than he lets on. But he thinks Sherlock knows about the divide between Muggles and Wizards.

Because Sherlock ducks.

John is out of bullets, because Sherlock had wanted to rush in (again) without waiting for backup (again). They’re taking on some sort of mob, or wannabe mob, or possibly a _cult_ , because Sherlock hadn’t told him what was going on (again).

John always carries his wand, grabs his wand like he grabs his gun, because while he may have left that life behind he remembers the war. Both wars.

He pulls it out to defend himself (Sherlock) without thinking, and when he fires a blasting curse Sherlock is moving into the way, and John can’t stop, but Sherlock looks his way and _ducks_.

He’s so thankful that they make it out alive that he forgets to ask until the next day.

4  
When he does remember, it’s because he’d been making tea with magic, secure in the knowledge that Sherlock was asleep, when Sherlock had slipped silently into the kitchen and stolen John’s cup of tea, which had been stirring itself.

Instead of yelling and screaming and demanding answers like any normal _sane_ person, Sherlock had calmly removed the spoon and sipped the tea as he wandered into the living room to do…something. John’s mind was a bit static at that point.

5  
John lasts a week before he breaks down and confronts Sherlock.

“Look, I know that you know,” John snaps, standing with his arms crossed in front of the couch where Sherlock is flipping through John’s laptop files.

“Know what?” Sherlock asks, not even bothering to look up from the screen.

“That I’m…Sherlock, are you even paying attention to me?” John demands.

Sherlock finally looks up, and John freezes under the full attention of one Sherlock Holmes.

“You’re what, John?” Sherlock asks, voice soft and just a shade shy of deadly. It’s practically a purr. He’s eyes are locked with John’s, and John finds it impossible to look away.

“That I’m a wizard,” John says helplessly, unable to lie, to dodge the question.

Sherlock’s smile is brilliant. “ _Thank you_ John.”

“You knew,” John realizes, “you knew and you didn’t say anything because…because why?”

Sherlock’s smile grows impossibly wider.

“You wanted me to tell you,” John says, feeling like someone hit him in the forehead with a hammer.

“I’m not supposed to know, you see,” Sherlock says, waving a negligent hand. “Obviously Mycroft had to read me in, because there were…incidents, that he needed my help with. And I knew there was something I wasn’t getting about you, and then I couldn’t pick the lock on your door…” he trails off.

“I wanted you to trust me,” Sherlock says after a moment of silence. “And you _do_.”

“You’re _insane_ ,” John breathes, leaning down to wrap a hand in Sherlock’s shirt, “and that was _brilliant_.” And John kisses him.


End file.
